<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Caged Freedom by bakakaneki</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28852113">Caged Freedom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakakaneki/pseuds/bakakaneki'>bakakaneki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Sibling Relationship, Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Mikasa Ackerman, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Childhood Trauma, Cute Eren Yeager, Demisexual Eren Yeager, Dubious Morality, Eren Yeager Has Anger Issues, Eren Yeager Has Issues, Eren Yeager Needs a Hug, Eren Yeager is a Little Shit, Eren Yeager-centric, Eren is more self aware in this, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Insomnia, M/M, Murder, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, Panic Attacks, Pansexual Eren Yeager, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Eren Yeager, Protective Mikasa Ackerman, Sassy Armin Arlert, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Separation Anxiety, Sibling Bonding, Slow Build, Smart Eren Yeager, Time Skips, Trauma, Visions, Visions in dreams, he still has a superiority complex at times tho lmao, we love representation, world building</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:28:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28852113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakakaneki/pseuds/bakakaneki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger thinks something is wrong with him. He sees memories that don’t seem like his own, feelings that haven’t even been felt yet. He’ll look in a mirror and wonder why he can never remember what his own face looks like. Everything about himself feels like it’s been fragmented.</p><p>But he can’t be caught up in confusion for too long—Eren has more important things to do with his life.</p><p>Like making sure his family of two won’t leave him like the last one did. And removing whatever stood in his way in the path to freedom, no matter the cost.</p><p>———</p><p>Rated Mature for blood&amp;gore, excessive violence, intense language and severe themes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armin Arlert &amp; Eren Yeager, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Mikasa Ackerman &amp; Armin Arlert, Mikasa Ackerman &amp; Armin Arlert &amp; Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman &amp; Eren Yeager, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Sasha Blouse &amp; Connie Springer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been getting back into AOT due to the new season and I've had this in my drafts for a while. Not sure where it'll go but I hope anyone who reads it likes it. I’m excited, it’s been so long since I’ve written anything that I feel like I could write for a long time! Most of the time I write fics but I never post them either cause I leave the fandom for a period of time or because I feel like it’s a stupid idea that nobody would like to read.</p><p>Please feel free to leave comment, criticism, idc. I’d really appreciate feedback and anything I need to improve on, I’m a bit rusty as I haven’t done this for a while.</p><p> Thanks for your precious time loves!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As harsh as it could be, Shiganshina could be merciful and gentle in its own subtle ways, with it's winds brushing on cheeks like bittersweet pecking kisses, and its constant sunbeams warming the skin of it's people in greeting each morning. It was charming in what little it was.</p><p> </p><p>Eren hates it.</p><p> </p><p>He hates how two faced everything is, the village city, the walls, the land they were all told to live in forever. He hates how content he feels waking up in the morning, hates that he feels comfortable living in such a cramped world. He hates that he doesn’t hate it enough.</p><p> </p><p>Not everything in Shiganshina makes him feel like imploding on sight. He isn’t completely an ungrateful spoiled little brat. Even if he wanted to hate every aspect of the city, he loves his family that cares for him, that loves him. He loves his best friend, and he loves his sister. Armin makes it a little more bearable to live, with his books about the ocean--about outside the Walls. Mikasa makes it a little more comfortable, familiar, with her sturdy reliance, her ability to always ground him. They calm his anger and soothe his restlessness.</p><p> </p><p>Eren doesn’t really want to know how he’d act without them. </p><p> </p><p>The sun is low as the trio sit together beside the canal, casting Shiganshina’s stone in soft yellows. Armin got beat up again by another annoying group of boys. Mikasa, per usual, scared them off. Eren knows that but childishly doesn’t want to admit that she’s better at that than him. </p><p> </p><p>“Why can’t everyone just let us at very least dream about the outside world? It doesn’t make sense. Everyone frowns down at the even the option of it.” Eren scowls, throwing a rock halfheartedly into the water in front of him. It ripples in tiny waves around the vision of his face. Brown hair, green eyes. They’re bright in the sun’s fading light. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s because we’ve lived quietly in the Walls for a hundred years. It's taboo to have any curiosity or interest beyond the Walls, and according to the king, or, the royal government’s policy,” Armin replied, gaze unfocused in the distance, “it’s to maintain the peace within them. So that <em>they </em>won’t get in.”</p><p><br/>
“The king and the government, all of them are cowards. They’re <em><strong>our </strong></em>lives, so we should be able to do whatever we want with them!” he hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“No way in hell.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy glances over to Mikasa, who had been quiet until now. He knows how she gets about his well being. She picked up a lot of his mother’s traits, including being overly concerned with protecting him. What, from living? It isn't that he doesn't like that she cares for him, it's just…slightly unbearable sometimes. He isn't stupid, Eren knows what he wants in life, and that was a hell of a lot more than some people could say. Being trapped in a cage of walls like animals...How could anyone stand to live like that for the rest of their lives? Its pathetic.</p><p> </p><p>”Absolutely not.” She repeats.</p><p> </p><p>Frustration wells up inside him and he begins arguing with her about how she had ratted him out to his mother earlier today. It dies as quickly as it came on. There would be more time to argue about it another time. There isn't a point to right now.</p><p> </p><p>The clouds are serene, pillow-y and soft overhead, laughter of children and familial bonding surrounded them. A woman plays with her young child. A man is reading quietly on a bridge, a stray cat walking idly behind him-likely searching for prey. Even in poverty, even in <em> captivity </em> these people still smile as if they’re living. Eren watches the golden-lit river flow. He convinces himself he hates it all. He does. </p><p> </p><p>“...People really think they have a secure future here.” Eren dimly listens as Armin begins speaking again. “They think that because the walls haven’t been breached in a hundred years, that it's guaranteed they won’t break through ever again. The possibility that they won’t...That doesn’t exist.”</p><p> </p><p>Armin's voice cuts away with the ending of his sentence.</p><p> </p><p>It was a deafening strike, that got Eren’s attention. It was like an electric earthquake, shaking everyone and everything, shocking them along with it. </p><p> </p><p>”Woah-!” Eren gasps as the ground tremble said, stumbling off the ledge he had just been sitting on. “What was that?”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Was it an earthquake?”</p><p> </p><p>Mikasa and Armin get up too, looking ruffled and nervous, and they all move together to try and figure out what was going on along with several frightened civilians. There are people fretting to and fro like scared livestock, as if they were pigs wondering which one of them would be exterminated next. There are people questioning everything-<em>as if they hadn’t known they were all prey. </em></p><p> </p><p>Everything quiets, the sudden silence washing like a wave over the people. Eren's eyes search the top of the wall, looking for any indication of something out of place. Suddenly the Walls feel cramped again, the crowd of people surrounding him feel like they're compressing into him, he feels like he can’t <em>breathe—</em><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>A giant hand clasps the top, shining crimson red in the fading sunlight. A head twice the size raises up, peering at Shiganshina over the stone. He feels nothing except a sick, twisted fascination. It shifts, eyes seemingly searching for something. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“A...<em><strong>Titan.</strong></em>”</p><p><br/>
The next moment, his eardrums feel like they've burst, debris smacks him in the arm, and all he can think about is whether or not he'll ever be able to tell his mother "<em>i love you</em>" ever again. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes people talk about how life changing situations almost feel like they go in slow motion. Trauma, love at first sight, death. Eren wishes it had gone slower. Maybe his mind could’ve caught up faster. He felt like he was stuck in a moment that replayed itself a thousand times, relentlessly without stopping.</p><p> </p><p>Adrenaline races through every vein in Eren's body. There's screaming everywhere, blood spraying in the air from the unlucky families that got the brunt of the kick directed at them. Agonized shrieks of people crushed under the larger parts of the broken wall. He moves as fast as he can, but his legs are sluggish under the weight of the world, arms not moving from his side. He hears his name being called but can barely make a sound.</p><p> </p><p>"M-Mom...Our house is over there!"</p><p> </p><p>Mikasa's presence next to him seems to break him out of his stupor, and he inhales a gulp of air. Armin isn't with them, but that isn't the concern right now. He'd be fine. He'd be fine. He'd be fine. Maybe if he said it enough, it would be true.</p><p> </p><p>Titans are starting to pour in from the massive hole, horrifying faces twisted in lip-less grins. Screeching of little girls and boys as they're picked up and chomped into bloody mush rings in his ears. The too slow bones of elders make them easy pickings, each crunch of human flesh like carrots mixed with dressing.</p><p> </p><p>Fear causes his legs to unlock and finally, he and Mikasa start to run. He's never ran so fast in his life, praying with every fiber of his being that his mother is alive, that she's okay, that she'll be okay.</p><p> </p><p>She was alive.</p><p> </p><p>But she wasn't okay. Eren's world shattered to bits and pieces. </p><p><br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They're on the last boat to safety, and he feels empty as he walks over to the railing. Armin calls out his name, but he can't hear him over his own beating heart. He screams and curses the Titans, feels Armin looking at him worriedly behind his back, and promises to kill them all. Every last one. He knows it's an irrational proclamation the second it comes out of his mouth. A promise like that would bind him further than the Walls ever could.</p><p> </p><p>Everything hurts but he isn't injured, outside of from when Hannes threw him on the ground. There's a haze of nothing that seeps over his mind, his pores, his skin. He feels like he isn't real, like he's floating. His body feels fake. Like a shell--a husk--made of weak flesh and stiff bone. His hands touch the railing, but he doesn't feel it at all. There's a heaviness upon his shoulders and his empty body trembles like it was under hundreds of pounds.</p><p> </p><p>He looks over the edge, and contemplates jumping and killing himself. Ending it all. It's a cowardly thing to think, he knows, but deep down he thinks he could convince himself to do it. If he tried hard enough. Instead, he meets his own dull stare in the rippling reflection below, shoving those thoughts away.</p><p> </p><p>Brown hair, amber eyes.</p><p> </p><p>His mother was there, if he looks hard enough in the rippling reflection. In the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheekbones, the shape of his lips. His heart constricts in pain at the vision. Trapped in a moment long past yesterday, his wings are bound and branded into his lungs.</p><p> </p><p>He was caged.</p><p> </p><p>All he ever wanted was to be free.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>As gentle as it could be, Shiganshina could be harsh. People were very poor, and some rarely ate. Sickness was common, and the nights were freezing in its tempting darkness.</p><p> </p><p>Eren loved it. He always did. Even the harshest parts, he loved them too. He loved the colorful myriad sunsets, the laughter that tinkled like wind chimes in the air, the cramped alleyways with stray cats awaiting their daily affection, the linens that swayed in the warm breezes, Armin's small voice as he whispered fables and stories to he and Mikasa, the softness of his mothers lap as she absentmindedly stroked his chestnut brown hair and tucked him in bed. Simple things, like the old plant pot across the street or the way the door to Eren's bedroom creaked when it was opened too fast. How the table in the kitchen had a little marks from the time he was trying to slice fruits without a cutting board on it.</p><p> </p><p>He had never appreciated what he had in front of him until it was taken away, and would never get the chance to be grateful in his life ever again. Funny how fast things come and go, how fast everything changes. <em>Just like the gentle caressing of the winds</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm going to be exploring freedom a lot in this, as it is the thing Eren prizes the most above all else, and I find it interesting and I wonder how I can write about it. I'm going to try and explore his character. There will be multiple aspects that aren't canon at all but yeah, this first chapter wasn't much of a fanfiction lol, I guess it was more of a prologue than an actual chapter. I'm going to explore Eren&amp;Mikasa&amp;Armin friendship more and probably make them closer. It'll get a bit darker next chapter, I'll add warnings and stuff for that. </p><p>I'm terrible at updating so don't expect much of a schedule :((( Sorry about that. I have a few chapters written already so I’ll get the next one out when I’m done re-reading it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Sickness And Health</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exploring a harsher side of their time before the Training Corps, Eren struggles with strange dream memories and sickly friends.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I broke this into two chapters and I kinda regret it idk. Hope you enjoy.</p><p>TW: Briefly mentioned slight self harm</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">His father always told him as lightly as he could that Eren’s anger was his worst flaw, the boy recalled as he walked into the entrance that led to the inside of Wall Maria, to his favorite spot not too far from the gate.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">It wasn’t necessarily that he disagreed with that, after all a fact was a fact and he wouldn’t stoop to a level of stupidity just to say that it was false for the sake of his own pride. Ultimately, he saw it first hand, and he felt it first hand. First there was the frustration, the rage and then the tears. Seemingly every time he got irritated he eventually started crying, to Eren’s disdain. Most likely because everytime he got mad, it usually ended up with him getting hurt alongside it. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Whether it was directed at the lazy soldiers, Armin’s cowardly bullies, the ungrateful civilians, somehow he was always shoved back into place. Even being angry at </span> <span class="s2">Mikasa </span> <span class="s1">seemed futile. Eren shuddered at the horrific memories of when she was at her worst. That glare of hers sent you to hell and back. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">He smiled a bit at the sight of the large tree in the center of the field. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">The worst situations had to be when he had a rage fit in front of his father. While Grisha Jaeger was typically rather calm and patient towards Eren, he had feeling it was forced at times. But that very patience was why the absolute look of disappointment and the dismayed snap of Eren’s name as if the man were ashamed to be his father, was enough to make his uncontrollable anger turn to overwhelming shame and humiliation.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">The worst part is he couldn’t even remember what he had been angry about in the first place.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Huffing a little bit at the still drying wetness on his face, Eren began the struggle of climbing up the tree. It was the only one in the meadow, surprisingly, which was strange since there were always so many sticks that he and Mikasa found whenever it was their turn to gather firewood. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">“Ouch!” </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">His hands scraped against the jagged bark. It didn’t </span> <span class="s2">really </span> <span class="s1">hurt though. But it would bleed a bit. Eren sighed and made it to the thickest branch, lime colored leaves tickling his neck in the process. It was peaceful here, and it made him feel a little better. Shifting into a position he wouldn’t be able to fall from, he searched through the thin satchel bag he brought with him, taking out a small book and a charcoal pencil. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">His mother, some time ago, told him how it might help him sort out emotions he couldn’t outwardly express in a healthy way. Drawing, that is. At first he had groaned and said he didn’t have any issues so he didn’t </span> <span class="s2">have </span> <span class="s1">to do anything to, as she put it, “manage </span> <span class="s2">confusing</span> <span class="s1"> thoughts”. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">He tried it for the first time though, and was surprised to find out how much easier it was afterwards to breathe. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Didn’t mean he was good at it. In all honesty Eren was abhorrently bad at drawing and would be absolutely horrified if anyone found the blank book he had all of his...masterpieces...in. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Even though it brought him no pleasure to look back on his “art”, it still aided him in bad times. Maybe it was the way the strokes of the charcoal appeared on an empty page. The way he could be angry or sad or lost and the pages would still be there for him. How giving an emotion temporary meaning, making something out of nothing—making it full of life—made him feel whole again. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Breathing in the warm winds around him, Eren put the pencil to use. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Something still confused him though. Something about what his father had murmured with a shaky hand over his eyes as Eren ran out the door with tears streaming down his flushed, embarrassed face. The boy didn’t see what the look on Grisha’s face was, but if he had to guess, it would’ve been regret. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s3"><strong>Am I doing it wrong again</strong>?</span> <span class="s1">”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Eren snapped back to reality at a sharp, curt crack. Ugh. He broke yet another pencil. And it had to be his last one, too. He huffed and looked back at the sketch he had subconsciously made while in his thoughts. Per usual, it wasn’t very good, but...who was that? The man he drew looked eerily familiar. The length of his face, the shape of his nose, those glasses. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">His eyes widened, a memory overwhelming his head painfully. In his dream, earlier yesterday that he had completely forgot about—</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">A small droplet of water fell with a muffled splat on the center of the paper, and with stupidity Eren accidentally smeared the entire page with black when he tried to wipe it away. Good thing it wasn’t that impressive of a sketch, or he would’ve been more frustrated. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">What was he even drawing again? </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Turning his gaze upwards at the clear sky, he wondered where that water came from. It certainly wasn’t raining.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Warmth slid down his cheek. He wiped it away without a second thought. It didn’t make any sense. Why was he crying yet again? This time there wasn’t even a reason to. He always cried, at weird times, an embarrassing trait that Mikasa was unfortunate enough to witness almost weekly. But, the reason was right there. Why was it so blurry?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Eren laughed weakly at himself.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <strong> <span class="s3">He always did have a faulty memory</span> </strong> <span class="s1">.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">———</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A hacking cough wakes him from his sleep. He tries to grasp onto the dream, attempting to remember what it had been about. Per usual, it falls from his clawing hands, and drifts away with a taunting smirk. Eren squeezes his bleary eyes to rid them of their aching tiredness, and turns to the blonde boy laying to the right of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Armin, Armin are you alright?” He whispers, careful not to wake up Mikasa, who is huddled up next to his other side, shivering even in her deep slumber. She hadn’t been sleeping well at all, none of them had, and Eren wanted her to get as much as she could. Not to mention the migraines she offhandedly mentioned had been getting worse.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Armin had gotten a cold, and where it normally wouldn’t have been a problem when one of them got sick, they no longer have the luxury of being under the care of a doctor anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><br/>
<br/>
None of them know if Grisha was even still </span><span class="s2">alive (</span> <em> <span class="s1">where’d that key come from </span> <strong> <span class="s3">Eren</span> </strong> <span class="s1">, questions, they’re unanswered, are you just going to sit around and accept silence as an answer?</span> </em> <span class="s2">), and they’re quickly realizing how much they had had back in Shiganshina. Even in the toughest of times it wasn’t nearly as bad as this. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">The people here frown down at the refugees, and the soldiers were incredibly rude. They don’t do anything when street rats get kicked around just for trying to </span> <span class="s1"><em>survive</em>, </span> <span class="s2">and they hiss curses and insults at dirty, skinny children begging and pleading, “</span> <span class="s1"><em>Please, please, I’m so hungry, please </em>”. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Eren scowls, clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white. Those soldiers should be </span> <em> <span class="s1">helping</span> </em> <span class="s2"> them, not cheering on a drunken friend while they beat up asylum seekers or civilians who look even the slightest bit poor. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It had never been like this in Shiganshina. Even the soldiers, who could be neglectful and annoyingly disinterested in protecting people, wouldn’t have ever been like this. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>But...what if they had</em>?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">If he thinks about it hard enough, Eren had been viewed with some semblance of admiration (outside of the irritating older kids who liked to push Armin around and taunt him for being a weak little brat) due to the fact his father had ultimately saved the entire town from a plague. That was bound to get </span> <span class="s1">some </span> <span class="s2">positive recognition. With guilt turning in his gut he wonders if he had never noticed anything horrific only for the sole reason he had been privileged with respect he hadn’t rightfully earned.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Blue eyes flutter open feebly when Eren gently shakes him again and repeats his question. “I...I don’t know. E-Everything hurts, Eren. It hurts. </span> <span class="s1"><em>Bad</em>.</span> <span class="s2">”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">The brunet sucks in a sharp breath. His friends face is sweaty and unhealthily flushed, his chest rising and falling a bit too fast. Eren bites his lip. Mikasa might catch the cold, too. He isn’t as worried for himself, he isn’t extremely prone to illness. But it’s quickly dawning on him that Armin could </span> <span class="s1"><em>die</em>. </span> <span class="s2">None of them have had a good healthy meal in what seems to be ages. If that won’t weaken an immune system...Eren isn’t sure what else would. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He can’t lose anyone else. Not now, not ever again. He can’t handle it, it would break him even further than he already is. Goddesses, even the idea of losing his friend is enough to make him want to curl up in a hole and sob. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Eren, st...stop. You’re doing it again.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Stilling, he looks down at the twinge of pain located on his forearm. Jagged scratch marks line the tanned flesh on his arm. His fingernails have skin underneath them. Gross. It doesn’t really matter. It’s just a nervous tic. Armin is overly concerned, when he should be concerned about himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“Armin?” Eren pokes his friend, chewing his lip when he notices the blonde passed out again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Everything had gone downhill ever since Armin’s grandfather got sent on the suicide mission into Wall Maria to recapture it alongside 250,000 others forced to go. Despite the mission being futile in its frontal goals, it helped the food shortage immensely. The blonde haired boy had been forcing down his grief at his last living blood relative being sent to die. They were all doing that. Leaving their trauma out in the open without closure.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Eren has a feeling the wounds from it will fester if they don’t do something about it. But he can barely even manage to think about Shiganshina without feeling like the world would crush him. He doesn’t even want to begin to think about talking about what happened. At least, not yet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The shelter for refugees they stay in grew colder with each passing week. The kids without any group or family went first, malnourishment and dehydration being the main cause. The next wave were those who gave up and lost themselves in grief before curling up with pitiful moans and wasting away without a fight.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Eren thinks it’s laughably pathetic, and vows to never, no matter how terrible everything gets, to ever become that cowardly. In his opinion, giving up is a fate worse than any other he could receive. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Or maybe that’s just what he tells himself so he can sleep at night instead of having to dream about a knife at his wrist and an alluring darkness that whispers lies to his muddled brain.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">There used to be more volunteers that came around to help everyone, but many became tired of the death and sadness that surrounded every inch of the building. They eventually gave up trying to help at all. Donations and charity towards them became scarcer as time progressed. Society was ready to leave them behind to fend for themselves. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Even though the food shortage had lessened, that didn’t mean people wanted to give out free food to and fro for the rest of their lives. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Eren, Mikasa and Armin all worked their hardest on a farm with others just like themselves, ploughing and giving their labor for measly amounts of money in return. Enough to get stale bread and dried fruits, but not enough for anything else. Not enough for medicine or luxury living, and certainly not enough for a doctor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It isn’t like they’d spend the rest of their life like this, unlike many others, they actually have goals. The trio had all decided to join the Training Corps after Armin’s Grandfather left, however they were still a little too young, which meant they still have to wait.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">It was already morning, sunlight shining on their little corner of the shelter. He has to work even harder on the plantation today if he wants to even attempt to help his friend. Sickness tightens in his stomach and he feels like puking as anxiety crashes like a wave into his head. They’ve all been stuck to each other like glue, going without Armin for longer than an hour felt like running with one lung. He has to, though. </span> <em> <span class="s1">He has to</span> </em> <span class="s2">. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Mikasa, wake up, we have to go work,” he gently shakes her a bit, trying to wake his adopted sister up, “come on, Armin is really sick. Maybe if we work extra hard—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">A raspy cough cuts his voice short and dread pools in his core. No, no, no</span> <span class="s1">, <em>nonononono</em>—</span></p><p class="p2"><br/>
His cheeks were warm—wet—and this time he doesn’t wipe them away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I rewrote the second part of the summary for this story cause the previous part was shit. Also I’ve decided to use “Jaeger” instead of “Yeager” cause it feels more natural to me lol. </p><p>With the vision/dreaming/memory stuff I’m adding...I guess I’m going off my own headcanons but also mixing in actual canon stuff too? Okay so, like I know Eren can’t have some of the “memories” I mention especially in that dream/flashback where he still has yet to be a titan shifter (if y’all know what I’m talking about with the Attack Titan memory stuff then you might understand idk). In episode one of the anime, Eren is “dreaming” and has all these visions that he can’t remember after he wakes up, but he cries. He still feels the emotion from it. Also in the manga, that scene is slightly different but it’s with a Mikasa with shoulder length short hair (as a child she has long hair) saying “see you later” (which I have plenty of tear filled theories about) and he also can’t remember what he was dreaming about there either. I’m exploring that weird dream memory stuff I guess in my own way.</p><p>Tell me, what do you think? Was it a dream of a flashback, or a dream of a memory that never happened?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Lack Of Morality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eren always knew he wasn’t a good person. In all honesty he didn’t mind not being perfectly ethical. That doesn’t mean he’s an entirely bad person, though. He just doesn’t have any issues when it comes to the phrase “no matter the cost”.</p><p>Or,</p><p>Eren achieves money in a very inconvenient way.</p><p>TW: Heavy implications of underage prostitution(nothin actually happens but it almost does), referenced attempted sexual assault, detailed murder/death</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Changed the story summary for the third time because I think it looks better that way.</p><p>Genuine question, do you guys think I should delete the first chapter? To be honest it doesn’t really fit with the story after re-reading it, it’s like a really shitty confusing prologue and I could delete it and literally just make that some sort of one shot separated from Caged Freedom. Not to mention I’m not sure if it’s a very good hook, if I read that as a first chapter I’d be pretty damn bored, it’s literally a carbon copy of the first episode. Hopefully I’ll get some of my readers opinions and then I’ll decide from there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hands feel like they’re on fire, and they’re likely a bleeding mess of torn flesh, too.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d be more worried about it had he not been lost in a spiral of irrational emotions. The sun is beginning to set in the distance and he realizes just how long it’s been since he started working. Just how long ago he left his friends alone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">They’re probably dead on the ground, Eren, lips blue and skin colder than ice. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">His limbs wail in desperate protest. He had to have torn a muscle or two, he’s beginning to go numb. His legs shake at the effort to keep standing but he has no choice but to keep moving forward. There is no room for surrender. No, no, not when his sister could be lying scared and sick and </span> <em> <span class="s2">alone </span> </em> <span class="s1">next to the </span> <em> <span class="s2">rotting corpse of his best friend</span> </em> <span class="s1">. Eren holds back a cry. He’s already dehydrated and that won’t help his family.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Family.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">That’s what they’ve become he muses. It’s all very </span> <span class="s2"><em>strange</em>. </span> <span class="s1">He remembers back when he was still unused to the idea of Mikasa being his sister, still saw her as separate from family. Still saw her as the empty girl with an emotionless gaze and no words to spare. He remembers when Armin was just the boy with lonely cobalt eyes and a tongue that talked of a better world. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Blue brother. Grey sister. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His thoughts are sluggish. He wonders if he’s floating, or if he simply doesn’t exist at all. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boy!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren’s head snaps to the voice so fast that his vision becomes blurry. He stumbles in place for a second before regaining his footing. It’s the man who employs him, the one he sees at the end of every day to give him and the others a few coins for their labor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sir?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“The sun is setting. I want you out of here before nightfall, so get your scrawny ass out of here before I </span> <span class="s2"><em>make you</em>.</span> <span class="s1">”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He feels a weak flare of anger but he’s too fatigued to act on it. Time do do his least favorite part.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, sir. If I can ask, would you spare a few extra today? My...family is really sick and I can’t pay for medicine or hot food.” His tongue feels like sandpaper around the words.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man eyes him with a judging frown, as if being in Eren’s presence would give him the sickness he spoke about. He knows the farmer has little pity for anyone but himself, knows that he doesn’t care about the people who suffer on his fields—barely scraping by. That’s why it comes as a surprise when instead of his usual meager amount of coins, there’s an extra few along with it. It’s an incredibly small amount more, and it will never manage to pay for what he actually needed, but the action is shocking in and of itself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s all you get kid,” the farmer wrinkles his nose at him and treks back to his house, “don’t ask for anymore, cause you ain’t gonna get it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Swallowing the dryness in his mouth away, Eren pockets the money and treks down the path back to where the shelter is. Checking his hands, he’s surprised to see them completely fine. No blood, bruises, nothing. As if the injuries he thought he had just disappeared. Even the muscles he swore had been badly pulled felt like they were getting more bearable each second. Pain tolerance? Possibly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Doesn’t matter. The less injuries, the better. Right now he needs to figure out what to do about the money situation.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">An offhanded thought of stealing comes to him but his legs still ache too much to do anything that strenuous. He’d likely fail miserably anyway. He has no qualms against theft. Absolutely none. Maybe a long time ago he did. If it meant getting a fresh hot meal and a few extra blankets, of </span> <span class="s2">course</span> <span class="s1"> he’ll go the socially unacceptable route. Doesn’t mean he’s good at it though.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Armin is somehow much, much better than him at pickpocketing (though the other boy is a bit opposed to theft), the last time Eren attempted it he nearly got them all caught. While Mikasa could pick a few coins off people, her features were very distinct and unique, meaning it was easier for her to be identified.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I have no clue what to do</em>, he thinks, pulling at his hair and biting his lip as he walks down the street. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“...come on, how was this not </span><em><span class="s2">your </span> </em> <span class="s1"><em>idea</em> you little whore, when you’re the one who was on your knees? You’re the one who sits on a corner begging for cash. You </span> <span class="s2"><em>wanted</em> this</span> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren stops dead in his tracks, and peers into the alleyway in front of him—where the sound came from. He’s not stupid. He has a strong clue of what’s going on, and isn’t too keen on letting it happen.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A girl, who appears to be around his age, leans haggardly against the brick of the wall behind her, bruises visible on her bare neck. A man stands in front of her, an ugly sneer on his ugly face, knife at her throat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His body doesn’t feel very tired now. Anger cancels out exhaustion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Hey, you! What are you doing!” Eren rounds the corner, stalking into the alleyway as if he were bigger than he is. A corner of his mind is screeching at him to turn around and </span> <span class="s2">leave</span> <span class="s1">, telling him that this isn’t the time or place to do this, he doesn’t have a weapon and his body is still small and weak. But he has a goal. He has something to do. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something he’s done before. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man looks at him, not frightened at all, his expression turning to amusement at the sight of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“This </span> <em> <span class="s2">bitch</span> </em> <span class="s1"> is rejecting my very kind charity. What kind of spoiled little brat does that? I tell you I’ll pay you in a full pouch, and yet you still deny it?” He taps the tip of his weapon against her chin, and she looks away, ashamed. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I...I wasn’t...I don’t want this, I never did...please just let me go.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you didn’t want this why would such a thing like you hang around like a streetwalker? Begging for money, I know you’re begging for this. And I’m a gentleman enough to pay you to do it. You want this boy to watch? That what you want, whore?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The girl gasps as the man backhands her cheek, wisp of a body slamming into the ground. Her hands scrape desperately at the dusty ground to prevent herself from falling on her already swelling face. She weeps, and Eren can’t help but feel an onslaught of disgust fill him at her lack of self preservation.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She makes him sick to his stomach.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Why don’t people ever fight back? Why do people just sit around and let themselves be chained?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">[<em>what makes someone good</em>?]</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man stares with interest at the boy’s form, at his eyes, slowly beginning to stalk over to him. “Skinny brat. I take it you’re one of those parasitic refugees, just like her.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><em>I take it you’re one of those disgusting, greasy lowlives who likes little kids</em>, </span> <span class="s1">he thinks with distaste. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pretty green eyes you have there little boy. You don’t see many like that. I’ve got money, you’ve got a body. Care to take that whore’s place? If you don’t...”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Sweaty, knobby fingers brush his cheek, grip his jaw until it bruises, and he wants to vomit</span> <span class="s2">,</span> <span class="s1"> he wants to rip his own skin off and burn it to a crisp. He wants to cave that oily face in until it’s an unrecognizable pulp of flesh and blood. Not yet, </span> <span class="s2">not yet. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren wonders if his reflexes are fast enough.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">[</span> <span class="s2"><em>what makes someone bad</em>?]</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Yes</em>,” he breathes, drops to his knees, begging with his viridian eyes, “I’ll do anything for a spare few. Please, sir, anything at all.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The pig is positively </span> <em> <span class="s2">giddy </span> </em> <span class="s1">as he begins pulling down his trousers, and everything about it is so humiliating, so incredibly, horrifically wrong in every shape and form Eren thinks possible. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pretty, you’re so pretty, boy. Even better the bitch watches too.” He sighs. Those revolting fingers are shoved into his mouth roughly, the man’s other hand—the one at his side that grips the knife—slowly relaxing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"><em>There</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren chomps down on the fingers so hard he feels the tendons crunch with the force of his jaw, knuckles snapping on his molars. His teeth ache, and there’s thick liquid on his tongue tasting of iron, but it’s worth it. Worth it when all there is in the world are the shrieks of agony spilling out of the bastard’s vocal chords.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <em> <strong> <span class="s3">What the fuck did you do to me</span> </strong> </em> <span class="s1">?!”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Screaming is all he hears, and the man tries to pull his hand from Eren’s bite-hold but cries out as it makes the injury worse. A clatter reverberates around him, a fist punches his cheekbone, and Eren releases his jaw at the impact. His mouth is overflowing with gore that he spits with fervor to the ground beneath him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“You—You fucking<em> brat! </em>You’re<em> dead,</em></span> <em><strong><span class="s3">dead</span></strong></em><span class="s1">!</span><span class="s2">”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The slop tries to slash at him, tears of pain streaming down his greasy face, but seems to just realize that he had dropped his only weapon in agony. Hesitation is all Eren needs to dart a hand out to grasp the fallen blade and stab through his solar plexus—straight into the man’s spine. His mouth gapes in a silent scream. The girl, whom Eren almost completely forgot about in the heat of things, is frozen in horror as the entire scene unfolds before her very eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">[</span> <span class="s2"><em>there are so many varying shades before a page can go jet black. some people douse theirs in ink without a second thought and a fit of laughter. he thinks those people are worse than the others, the others with their unwanted smudges of graphite obscuring the previously pristine white of their paper.</em>]</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <em><span class="s2">You’re</span> <span class="s2">lower than trash</span></em> <span class="s1">!” Eren shouts, jerking the knife out. Red splatters all over the place. He shoves it back in, twists it on the way out, over and over and over and over. There’s piss all over the dying man’s trousers. “</span> <span class="s2"><em>You never should’ve been born, you filthy son of a bitch! I hope you suffer in hell forever, bastard</em>!”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He reaches as high as he can and jams the blade into the middle of the man’s throat. A grotesque gurgling sound echoes in the alleyway, blood spraying in the air.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Die!</span> <em> <strong> <span class="s2"> Die</span> </strong> </em> <span class="s1">!” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He withdraws it for the last time, stumbling back dizzily, suddenly all too aware of the how familiar this situation feels, and makes sure—just in case—that his hand holds the knife in a deathgrip. His heart is speeding a mile a minute, lungs expanding with every harsh pant of breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man tumbles gracelessly into the ground, wounds leaking to form a pool around him. Soon enough the gurgling comes to a stop.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren feels nothing towards the corpse at his feet. Not satisfaction. Not relief. Not regret. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">[</span> <span class="s2"><em>immoral. unethical. sinful. words that made him wonder if they were thrown around to make the user feel better about themselves</em>.]</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Trying to steady his heart, Eren thinks on why he doesn’t have any injuries. </span> <em><span class="s2">Didn’t he punch me on my cheek? Then why does it feel like I’m perfectly fine other than being tired?</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A muffled sob brings him back to reality and he focuses in on the bruised girl who looks traumatized. “Why...how could—how could you just, just <em>kill</em> someone like that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s such a ridiculously ignorant question that Eren laughs breathlessly at it. His chest heaves as all the adrenaline fades away, the strain on his body becoming too much. He collapses onto his rear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“How could you just sit there, like a </span> <span class="s2"><em>miserable</em>, </span> <span class="s1">feeble</span> <em><span class="s2"> coward </span></em> <span class="s1">and just </span> <span class="s2"><em>give up</em>?”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She trembles, watery eyes widening, “I—I couldn’t! I was too scared! I’m not...I’m too weak.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <em><span class="s2">Look</span> <span class="s2">at me</span></em> <span class="s1">. Do you even <em>see</em> me?” he snaps, fury in his narrowed stare, “I’m weak, too. I can barely hold myself up. I’m a child like you. But that’s where our similarities end. I’m not </span> <em> <span class="s2">pathetic</span> </em> <span class="s1"> like you.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Familiar, but so different.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She quiets at that, looking away from him, away from the cooling carcass. Eren inches towards the body, reaching into the dead man’s soiled pockets, withdrawing a pouch filled with coins before retreating back to rest his head against the wall to count the amount. The girl doesn’t seem to have the heart of a thief, so he isn’t too worried. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em><span class="s2">On the bright side, at least I have money now</span> </em> <span class="s2"><em>to help Armin and Mikasa</em>, </span> <span class="s1">he thinks dryly. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The puddle of lifeblood steadily grows in size.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He has no guilt brought upon by it, and he never will.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">[</span> <span class="s2"><em>vile</em>. <em>vicious</em>.<em> cruel</em>.<em> he wondered if they were right about him</em>.<em> struggled with whether he cared anymore</em>.]</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">People like that man like to rip apart lives to compensate for their own lack of one. They’re a physical form of what humiliation is to humanity. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Erm...what’s your name?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Introductions. More time spent on not helping his family. That worry encloses around him and he frets internally if they’re alright.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My name, it’s Heidi. Heidi Köhler, I’m a refugee from a village in Maria. I, I think I’ve seen you in the fields before, I work there with my cousin.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He pauses in his counting (</span> <span class="s2"><em>who in their right mind carries around so much</em>?</span> <span class="s1">), eyeing her with consideration. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eren Jaeger. I’m from...I’m from Shiganshina.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The flash of pity in her expression almost makes him want to scream but he knows it’s a natural response. One he’d felt before, for neighbors crushed underneath broken stone, brains scrambled and flesh flattened. For emaciated children dying alone in a cold building. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighs, and then throws a handful of coins near where she sits, little tinkly clinks clang as they settle on the ground. Heidi, though surprised, gives him a shaky yet grateful smile.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Standing up—albeit slightly wobbly—Eren tosses the knife over to her feet too. Perhaps it’s a stupid thing to do, but he has a feeling she’ll feel safer having something to defend herself with. Sometimes weapons give their owners determination they previously lacked. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Besides, he can find something for himself another day—a tool untouched by that disgusting embarrassment of a man. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t say anything, just take it,” he says at her shocked look, “I know how hard it can get and you look like you need it more than I do right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren knows she wants to speak, but he has no time for anymore of this, not when his friends are sick and alone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">When he turns around the corner, he hears a soft “</span> <em> <span class="s2">thank you</span> </em> <span class="s1">”, and with a twisting stomach he recognizes the feeling of hatred.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">“Dad?” </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">“What is it, Eren?”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">“What makes someone a good person?”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">The air was heavy, metallic.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2">I...don’t think anyone can be solely good or bad,” the man’s brow furrowed, eyes becoming unfocused in past recollections, “it just doesn’t work that way. People can have a kind tongue yet still have a dark heart. Some just happen to be worse than others.”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">A soft silence. The winds nipped at his rosy cheeks. He wondered if stains would ever fade away. Wondered why he didn’t care if they never would.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">“I’m not a good person, dad.” He whispered, but for some reason he didn’t feel guilt at the admission. It felt like a casual statement.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">“Oh, son,” Grisha laughed a bit, in a strangely bitter tone that spoke of untold miseries, “I’m not all that great either you know.”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <em>It sounded like an “I know you aren’t”.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">The boy turned away and looked at the blood on his hands, to the sleeping girl in the red scarf, and accepted it as it was.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"><em>To fight for what he lived for—what he was born into—left no room for snow white canvases</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren might’ve fretted a bit too much during his time away from them. After sleeping for a few hours (across from them to lessen Armin’s fussing) he felt better. Maybe he should work on not being so dramatically anxious the next time something like this happens again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">However, it’s obvious without any sort of treatment that their health would’ve quickly gotten to a lethal stage had Eren not had the money for specific remedies and healthy food.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Mikasa has any questions on how exactly he received enough money to not only purchase ginger soup for their sore throats, but also a small collection of remedial herbs, she doesn’t ask them. Nor does she ask about the blood speckling his shirt. She can probably read into the lines enough to know it wasn’t easy.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Armin is a bit suspicious of him but he’s too lethargic to pester him about it. Best case scenario he’ll think of it as a fever dream the next time he wakes up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re both just glad that Eren’s okay. And he’s just glad that they’ll get better—with time, of course. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Come here, </span> <em> <span class="s2">now</span> </em> <span class="s1">, Eren. I command you to hug me.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mikasa, you know he can’t,” Armin chides hoarsely before sneezing, still sounding significantly better than yesterday, “he might get sick too.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They both have cool strips of wet cloth on their sweaty foreheads, courtesy of Eren’s suggestion when the blankets became overwhelmingly hot.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you think I would’ve gotten sick by now? You both know I rarely catch anything. One time close contact wouldn’t hurt anybody...”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, exactly. Please do.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, Mikasa, we can’t risk anything—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Before I forget, do you guys think I should buy honey, I remember that’s good for sore throats—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t leave us again. Don’t go. I’ll kill you if you dare.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eren, you need rest too, we’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! Tea, I remember dad making that for mom when she had a fever. Yarrow and...and lemon...”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the mention of his parents Eren quiets. He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to talk about them without any pain in his heart. If he even ever can. Armin chews his lip, and slowly sits up despite still being weak.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe...maybe one hug? Just one, I don’t want you to get sick.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles a bit, before jumping from his spot in the opposite corner and sitting down. Mikasa immediately melts into his side, clinging onto his arm with her cheek pressed into his shoulder. Armin is a bit more reluctant but they both know it’s out of kindness. Eren rests his temple against the crown of his best friends head, gently clasping his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stay there for a bit, listening to each other breathe, listening to make sure they’re all still there. Still alive.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shockingly, it’s Mikasa who breaks first.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How—why are you so warm Eren?” She backs off, even sweatier than before, “Goddesses, you’re like a living fireplace.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Armin winces, and has to untangle himself from the brunet too. “Agreed. You’re running hotter than me, are you sure you aren’t already sick?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m pretty sure I’d be dead if I were any warmer than you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe you need a wet rag too.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eren tucks his knees against his chin. He still thinks it’s unsettlingly odd that his legs no longer hurt from the hours upon hours of ploughing he did. Advantages are advantages though. It’s fortunate they didn’t straight up stop working yesterday.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At a flash of red, he sees the scarf half hidden underneath Mikasa’s pillow. She had probably taken it off once it got too hot to keep on. The color is starting to fade a bit at the edges. The memories in it...He wonders if those will ever fade too. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles sadly at the soft material, glancing up at her, but his sister is quickly falling asleep in a semi-cuddling position with Armin, mumbling about how it’s no wonder he’s so hotheaded. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’ll always love them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">[<em>for as long as i could remember, </em></span> <span class="s2"><em>i’ve always hated you</em>.]</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"><em>What</em>?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What kind of thought was that? Eren touches his cheek, looks at Mikasa, but his smile is already gone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yesterday’s animated S4 Armin was awesome. Can’t wait for next week. I bow down to Mikasa 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐</p><p>DOES ANYBODY KNOW IF THEY EVER TALK ABOUT WHAT CURRENCY THEY USE ON PARADIS ISLAND/INSIDE THE WALLS??? I don’t think they do so I struggle by just using terms like “coins” and “money” and that’s it.</p><p>Idk how progressive they are in medicine so I just used the standard herbal remedies, soup, and tea route lol.</p><p>It’s strange. I’m trying to write Eren not only as empathetic and compassionate towards the people he loves, but also cruel and violent to those who stand in his way. It’s almost like he’s two different people. </p><p>I have so many ideas for AOT fics. Like, I have one where I could write Eren being born in Liberio/Marley, one where I explore this time loop idea I’ve been having based around the “to you 2,000 years from now” thing. idk. Lots of ideas. </p><p>I hope you guys understand why I wrote Eren killing someone yet again. I find it interesting. Reading the manga and going back to watch/read the earlier parts of it, Eren truly hasn’t all that much changed (at least his core personality hasn’t). What’s changed is the way he matured, he’s more composed now. His emotions don’t control him like they used to. It isn’t to say that he has no issue with murder, he just definitely doesn’t mind murder in exchange for freedom. </p><p>In my opinion, the readers and certain characters see him in an idealistic way in the beginning. Many people now despise Eren and his actions, talk about how he’s been turnt bad, how he’s a terrible person now. But, that’s just him. It’s always been him. The rose colored glasses everyone had on have been taken off. Eren isn’t evil, but, he isn’t a saint. He’ll never be a good person, but he’s also not a bad person. That’s what I was trying to kind of get across in this chapter, but instead when he’s a child. Think about it. 9 year old Eren had no issues killing two men to save someone else(Mikasa) from being in captivity. He has absolutely no problem cutting down what stands in freedoms way.</p><p>S4 Eren seems so different to people because his outward personality seems incredibly different (and it is for a multitude of reasons) but once again his core is and probably always will be the same.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>